


Dependant

by Evilchuckles



Series: Miss Gingerpaws Series [10]
Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Humour, M/M, PWP, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 22:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16127615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilchuckles/pseuds/Evilchuckles





	Dependant

Gevanni was stressed and pissed off. He had most of the laundry still to do, a tax return to fill out, important letters to post and the cat had that evil expression that indicated that she had done _something_ and he wasn’t going to like it when he found out what.

And now, for the eighth time so far today, Near was demanding something of him. 

First it had been to remind him to buy glue. Near went through an awful lot, especially now he was building a complete scale model of pre-1666 Restoration London.

Next it had been to suggest that the lack of cake in the kitchen cupboard was a disturbing turn of events which should be rectified as soon as possible (i.e. as soon as Gevanni could go shopping).

Then, just as Gevanni had been sitting down at the table to spend his precious Saturday off doing his tax return (and, yes, alright, the tax return at least wasn’t Near’s fault because it wasn’t Near’s tax return but still, it wouldn’t be so near the deadline if Near didn’t keep distracting Gevanni with big eyes, and weird sci-fi, and serial killers and sex- although Gevanni didn’t really mind that last one), Near had asked whether the fridge was supposed to make noises like that. And it had quickly become evident that the fridge was buggered.

Then Gevanni had had to put towels under the fridge because it was warming up and soon there would be melted ice everywhere.

Near had watched this procedure with interest.

And not helped.

After that it had just been one thing after another until Gevanni was feeling a insane twitch start in his eyebrow.

It wasn’t that Near was selfish or that he deliberately used Gevanni as a personal slave. Near would cheerfully pull his weight whenever asked.

There were just three tiny problems with that.

One- Gevanni had to admit to being irritated by the fact that he _needed_ to ask. Near was such hard work sometimes. It was wearying. Anyone else would automatically see the necessity for helping out, without being told. Near, on the other hand, always looked genuinely stunned when Gevanni snapped and said something like, ‘why don’t _you_ do the accounts for once?’ In a way it was almost quicker and easier for Gevanni to do it himself.

Two- Near did his best but to be honest, he wasn’t so good at practical, real life, stuff. Gevanni didn’t even like to think about that time when Near did the laundry and that thing happened with the washing machine and Mrs Gingerpaws Butterfield. She’d never been quite the same since.

Three- In his secret soul Gevanni had to admit to quite liking having Near dependant on him. Sometimes he honestly saw no other way that he was going to keep Near long term. However, reason three was one which he tried not to dwell on, or even face in the privacy of his own mind.

Unfortunately the sum total of these factors, combined with a long work week, a looming financial deadline, and relentless Nearishness, was that Gevanni was now about ready to go boom.

So when Near said, “Gevanni?” his response was to snarl, “ _What_? For fuck’s sake, Near!”

But Near only smiled in that quiet, evil, way which meant that Gevanni should look to his honour and then, somehow, (it was a blur) Gevanni was on their bed and Near was sat astride him and something was...there was a...

Oh.

Gevanni tugged his hands.

Yup. 

Handcuffed to the bed slats. 

Definitely.

And decidedly naked. Gevanni looked up at Near, heart pounding with mingled excitement and dread because although the handcuffs were new, the expression on Near’s face wasn’t. It was his ‘I was at a loose end one evening and so I ended up on Google and now I’ve got ideas’ expression. And those ‘ideas’ were only about fifty per cent good ideas.

Some were great ideas.

But the other fifty per cent were ruined either by being bad ideas in the first place or, more often, by Near’s arse-about-face execution of them. After all, Near’s sex blind spot hadn’t just magically vanished now he was having a lot of sex. It was still there. It had just got creative.

‘God help me,’ Gevanni thought, tugging on the handcuffs again, just to make sure.

“Don’t bother,” Near told him, cheerfully, “They’re quite solid. I got them at work.”

Gevanni made a mental note to add to his night time prayers one along the lines of, ‘Please God, let no one at work _especially Lidner_ find out that Near took the handcuffs and why.’ He would put it right after, ‘Please, please let Near never meet someone as clever as him and fall in love for real and leave me.’

“So, er...what did you have in mind?” He asked, tentatively.

Near looked down at him and smirked.

“ _This_ ”

 

Gevanni’s world was dissolving into pleasure and frustration, both mingled together in a blissful, agonising, endless moan that seemed to come up from his feet and leave his mouth without any intention of making a sound.

Near’s mouth. Near’s hand. The soft tickle of pale hair on Gevanni’s skin. _All over his skin_.

Near, remorselessly attacking every known erogenous zone on Gevanni’s body, and finding new ones all the time.

Near bringing him to the edge again and again and then stopping just before Gevanni could come.

Gevanni was going to rub his wrists raw in the handcuffs if this went on much longer.

Time had stopped. He couldn’t remember the tax return. He couldn’t remember the ice cream turning to mush in the fridge. 

He could barely remember his own name.

Near had turned him over.

And was...

Was...

Well, that was new.

 

“Please...” Gevanni just managed to get the word out between whimpers, “Please...”

Near merely continued to lick.

There.

Gevanni’s brain was a puddle.

Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure. Nothing else in all the world but that.

 

Near entered him slowly, so slowly. Gevanni moaned low in his chest, and breathed hard into the pillow.

It felt...it felt...

“Near...”

“Stephen...”

Gevanni groaned. No one outside his family called him that. He had dropped it at university. No one used it. Not even Near. Until now. 

But maybe Near was family.

“You take care of everything,” Near whispered, his mouth near Gevanni’s ear, his hips still moving, driving deeper and deeper, “You take care of me.”

Near reached beneath Gevanni and began to stroke.

“My turn now.” Near told him.

And Gevanni’s world caught fire.

 

Later Near did Gevanni’s tax return in fifteen minutes. 

And Mrs Gingerpaws Butterfield vomited up a bit of St Paul’s Cathedral.

And Gevanni smiled and smiled and smiled.


End file.
